I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words…
I am lying on MindReader, pretty much, in our favourite position on the sofa. I have a glass of wine and a movie on and NO NOVEL WRITING.
“I can’t believe I can actually say I’ve written a novel now,” I say.
“Well done,” he says, kissing my forehead.
I drum my fingers quietly on his chest while he continues to watch the film.
It is not done, even though I wrote the last sentence. More needs to be said. And edited – oh the editing. And yet, it is my baby, and I love it just the way it is.
I think back to what OldTutor said in September.
Write yourself out of it. Don’t write yourself further into it… I don’t know how to do it; finding that out is part of it. It’s essential that you should do this, in my opinion.
And – whatever he meant; I pondered it for hours – I did it. I wrote a novel with no ill people in it and with characters who never considered their energy.
And in doing so, I wrote myself back to life.


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*stands and applauds* Well done, BG. Very well done. I look forward to hearing about your editing process. Do we get to have a preview at some point? If you need eyes on the copy, let me know!
Also, a signed copy of the printed book so when you become ungodly famous, I can say I knew you back when.
Congrats! And like me, your biggest word in Wordle is “like”.
Well done! And I like the teeny bit I can read in that screenshot!